Just Look At Me Now
by WriterJenWrites
Summary: A light and frothy Christmas tale in which Draco is a Muggle History teacher and Hermione is getting divorced. A chance encounter leads to an unexpected friendship. 'You play football now'. 'It's a world away from snitches and broomsticks, but I'll admit, I love it.' Eventual romance of course.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his universe do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing JK's characters to tell this story that popped into my head.

* * *

It was one of those Sunday afternoon's in early December.

The type where anticipation in the build up to Christmas was everywhere and inescapable, the happy banter drifting out from groups of friends drinking mulled wine under heated lamps in pub gardens, to the dark sky illuminated by endless displays of decoration, the all-too-familiar festive songs playing constantly somewhere in the background, a soundtrack.

She'd caught a train into London, squeezing herself into a space between a loud group of teenagers and a young couple distracted by their newborn's gurgles in it's pram. The train rattled and shook as it made it's way into Victoria, the platform as crowded as the carriage.

She stuffed her hands into her pockets as she headed outside, thankful that the day was clear, even if the wind had a biting edge to it. It was reassuring to be out amongst so many people, all with thoughts akin to hers, how could you be lonely when the city was buzzing around you, false cheer hanging in the crisp, cool air?

Her cheeks pinched pink from the cold, she headed north towards Buckingham Palace, the ever-present tourist crowd snapping away at the unsmiling guards behind the gates. Above, the familiar hum of descending aircraft into Heathrow mixed with the clash of car horns, her boots crunching on parchment-dry leaves that still carpeted the pavements.

This had been a good idea.

'Are you sure you don't want to come for lunch this Sunday?' Ron has asked her earlier in the week when they caught up in Diagon Alley. 'Mum and Dad would love to see you,' he added.

She'd smiled fondly as she pointed out the froth on his top lip from his butter beer, taking a sip from her own bottle before replying. 'I would love to,' she told him carefully, 'but I think it's best if I keep my distance for a little while longer.' Her hand worried distractedly at a beer mat on the table. 'Besides, work has been exceptionally busy recently and I promised my parents I'd spend some time with them this weekend.' It wasn't a blatant lie.

'You're avoiding us,' he pointed out bluntly, the look he was giving her pointed. She had nothing to say to that and could only take another swig of her drink. A weekend bag sat sadly at her feet, the items she'd asked him to bring stuffed inside. Their breakup had been amicable, but it was still fresh and they had yet to all figure out how they were going to rebuild their relationships around this new chasm that gulfed.

Out of the two of them, Ginny had had an easier time accepting the breakdown in their relationship than Harry, who felt as if she had betrayed an unspoken rule between them that their group would remain intact forever. 'Things don't have to be different though, we'll still all hang out, won't we?'

The question had been rhetorical and Hermione hadn't the heart to tell her that part of her decision to end things with Ron, the reason she break the myriad of entanglements that had held two people who had spent over a decade of their lives together, was because she couldn't shake off the feeling that her life was flat. Something was missing. Something that she couldn't explain coherently wasn't enough.

Through Mayfair and up towards Oxford Street the pavements became even more crowded as customers flowed in and out of restaurants and shops, their hands laden with shopping, wallets inevitably lighter.

Eventually the cold became too much and she ducked into a department store, wandering along the polished marble floor bathed in warm light, beautiful clothes and exquisite jewellery on display. Perfect items for perfect lives.

That was when she saw him.

She'd stopped in the kitchenware department of all places. She had no kitchen of her own any longer, no need for an overpriced casserole dish or frying pan. Besides, Ron enjoyed cooking more so than she ever did. Yet there she was, weighing up whether she should buy a pink Le Creuset salt and pepper mill. Mariah was blasting out from some speakers overhead.

'Can I help you, Sir?' An assistant behind her was asking someone else.

Maybe she would gift the Le Creuset set to her parents, or keep it for when she found her own place. Sixty-five pounds was a bit extravagant, but then why the hell not? What else was she going to spend her money on?

'No, thank you, I'm quite alright,' came a polite, clipped response to the assistant's question.

Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, unmistakable. It couldn't be.

She turned slowly, cautiously hunching her shoulders to make herself less visible in case it was. She spotted the shock of his hair immediately. His back was to her, attention fixed on an expensive display of coffee machines no more than five metres from her, a brochure in his hands. She clocked the dark wool overcoat and burgundy scarf at his neck, warm boots; he looked unmistakably muggle.

'Excuse me, Miss, do you need any assistance?'

Of all the places to bump into him, after all these years. How many had it been now - fifteen?

A throat cleared beside her. 'Miss? Can I help you with anything?'

She turned to the Sales Assistant who was now standing next to her, clearly looking impatient, unsuccessfully failing to hide his bored disdain at having to work a Sunday afternoon. The salt and pepper mill box was still heavy in her hands. 'I'm ok, thank you,' she told him quietly, turning away quickly, wanting to remain discrete. She was still making up her mind - should she say hello or avoid him altogether?

The assistant skulked off, leaving her alone with her dilemma. She stared up at the shelves bulging with an endless variety of appliances, making up her mind. She would walk away quickly before he even noticed her and that would be that. No need for any awkwardness. Besides, what would she say to him anyway? After all this time?

Bowing her head, thankful she'd worn a hat to hide hair that had tamed with age but still gave her away, she turned to make her escape.

And collided straight with his chest.

'What-'' she cried, stumbling back, looking up in alarm.

'Hello, Granger,' he said, that trademark smirk teasing at his lips. 'Fancy seeing you here.'

She searched for her voice but couldn't find it, and in that pause his eyes scanned her face as if seeing her for the first time, hers doing the same. A face so familiar from the past and yet so different now with the distance of time.

He'd kept his looks of course, there was no denying that. If anything, the years had softened the angular lines of his face into something less harsh and more open, light stubble across his jaw. His hair was a little darker, longer than she'd have imagined it would be, touching the collar of his coat, tied back today. He looked somewhat scholarly, knowing.

The most striking thing however was how comfortable he seemed standing there, dressed in his muggle clothes in the middle of a famous muggle store, so far removed from the life he'd had, fitting in with the people he had been espoused to hate. Not that it should have shocked her. It was common knowledge that after the War had ended and the trials concluded that he'd left the Wizarding world for good.

Over the years she had occasionally wondered what she would say if she ever saw him again, oftentimes dismissing the twisted apologies and hasty explanations that formed in her head before being forgotten and buried. It wasn't as if they had ever conversed in a cordial manner at school; childish insults back and forth had been their game. But she had felt guilt, as if there was something to say that she hadn't yet after all this time found the words for.

And here she was, standing in front of him, wondering what he made of her now, no words forthcoming.

The smirk became a smile. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her. 'I'm wondering if I should spend the better part of a paycheck on a coffee machine,' he told her lightly, cocking his head towards the row of stainless steel. 'I'm convinced it will save me money in the long run.'

She was still staring at him, she realised. His coat was open, the scarf loose at his neck. He wore a casual checkered shirt underneath. Trendy.

'You know, people still say it's rude to stare, Granger.'

A self-conscious warmth flushed her face and she looked away, embarrassed, shaking her head. When she looked back up he was still watching her.

'Sorry, it's just a bit of a shock is all, seeing you here...' she eventually said, regretting her words immediately. 'I mean, of course you might shop here, I didn't mean anything by that.' She swallowed, wondering where the nerves that fluttered in her stomach had come from all of a sudden. 'How are you?'

It was such a funny question to ask someone you hadn't seen for over half of your life. He laughed, but it sounded warm.

'Well, my biggest concern today is which brand I choose, so I think you can surmise from that that I'm quite well. You seem to have been more decisive in your shopping than me.'

She looked at him quizzically until he gestured at the mill set still in her hands. She'd forgotten about that. 'Ah yes. I'm not sure if I need it actually.' She replaced it on the shelf.

A pregnant pause.

'So how is life Granger? Still fighting to protect all of your magical creatures?' There was a teasing note in his tone, but his eyes betrayed his inquisitiveness.

How did he know about that? 'I work at the Ministry,' she told him hesitantly. 'Mainly in the legal department working to protect the rights of magical creatures.' And then without thinking: 'It's alright, I suppose.'

'Brimming with enthusiasm I see.'

'Well, work is work.' This was awkward.

His smile faltered, and he regarded her with an inquisitive intensity. 'So what would you choose?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Coffee machine,' he clarified. 'If you had to choose, which one would you go for?'

Was he serious? 'You want my opinion?'

He laughed, a deep sound. 'I'd rather yours than that of a hungover teenage shop assistant who thinks Starbucks is as good as it gets.'

'I should have guessed you'd be a bit of a coffee snob.' But now she was laughing too. 'For all you know I might be perfectly satisfied by a chain brew.'

'Somehow, I think not.'

She walked over to the shiny row of gadgets, her eyes watering at the prices as she eyed each one up. 'Speaking as a non-expert, and basing this purely on looks, I'd go for that one,' she told him, pointing to the stainless steel appliance at the end of the counter.

He joined her, reading the features list beside it. 'It's called "The Oracle".'

'It's all knowing. Pricey though.'

He folded his arms as he considered it. 'I've promised myself that I'll stop buying a coffee on my way to work everyday. I reckon it will only take about three years to break even.' His line of sight was drawn back out to the store as he looked for the assistant. 'Pretty good investment really.'

'And what does Draco Malfoy do for work?' She asked, the words tripping out of her mouth before she could catch them.

He grinned down at her sheepishly. 'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

She didn't recognise this relaxed, happy man standing beside her. So unlike the eighteen year old in the dock the last time she saw him.

'I'll tell you what,' he said conspiratorially, leaning in towards her, almost whispering in her ear. 'Seeing as you've helped me choose a frankly overpriced gadget for my kitchen that I now have to buy, how about we go for a drink, my treat?'

Her mouth fell open in shock. 'Before you say yes, I'll admit now that my intentions are not sincere. I haven't spoken to anyone from the Wizarding world in over five years, I'm completely out of the loop.'

His emphasis at the end of that sentence had the intention of sounding lighthearted, she was sure, but she was certain there was a deep longing for home that he didn't want to admit was there. But as much as she wanted to pique her own curiosity-

'Don't do that,' he said, interrupting her train of thought before it could depart the station. 'You're trying to think up a reason to say no to me, when you should just say yes. One drink. I owe you.'

She was saved from responding to that last part by the return of the sales assistant who seemed somewhat enthused with making a sale, and whilst he organised payment and delivery with Malfoy, she hung back, wondering how to play this out.

And then the bill was settled and he was standing before her once again, hands in pockets, waiting for an answer.

'Do you know where the nearest Starbucks is?' She asked eventually.

A hearty laugh. 'I think I can think of somewhere a bit better than that.'

He took her to a somewhat gentrified but friendly pub hidden away in Mayfair, rammed to the rafters with the bubbling afternoon crowd. She was tasked with finding a place to sit whilst he ordered their drinks from the barmaid who seemed familiar with him, clearly this was a regular haunt. A rare stroke of luck gifted her a small table next to the fireplace, the couple vacating their seats with friendly nods. Every other table was occupied, and much of the floor space too.

She took of her coat and hat, smoothing her hair down self-consciously, before dropping her hands in her lap in alarm.

'Wasn't sure if you were hungry,' he told her when he found her spot, dropping two bags of crisps on to the table and handing her a large glass of Pinot Noir. He sank into the chair opposite hers with his pint, resting his coat over the side.

Their walk over had been pleasant. He pointed out some of his favourite places to eat and she recounted the first time she had seen the Christmas light display on Regent's Street as a child.

'So this is funny, isn't it?' He said, acknowledging the elephant looming over them. He rested his drink on the table and opened both packets of crisps the way she liked, pulling them apart at the seems so they could share. 'I can't imagine what you're thinking about all of this. Well, about me, really.'

She popped a crisp into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. 'Quite a coincidence in a city of over eight million people, bumping into someone you know.'

'Not that much of a coincidence when you think of how many people shop in Selfridges though.' He studied her carefully. 'I don't imagine you spend much time in Muggle London these days?'

Hermione reached for another crisp. 'More so recently,' she began, wondering how much to say. 'I'm staying with my parents in Kingston at the moment, I guess you could say I'm reconnecting with the place.'

A look of surprised understanding crossed his features. 'Ah.'

'Ah, indeed.' Deep breath. 'Ron and I have decided to separate.' She reached for the wine glass. It was strange, admitting it out loud, to him of all people. 'I suppose I should say we're getting divorced. It's a shame you don't get a refund for the cost of the wedding alongside the refund on your marital status,' she joked lamely, taking a large gulp of her wine.

'I'm sorry.'

She smiled. 'It's ok, you don't have to apologise or offer me false sympathy where it's not deserved. It's amicable but it was largely my decision.'

'You met someone else?'

She shook her head. 'No, nothing like that. We'd been together so long and were so settled in our routines - I guess I felt like we were hurtling towards getting older and older and nothing had changed, or would change and that thought terrified me.' And then there was the children issue. 'You're being awfully cordial and polite to someone with our history,' she prodded.

He grimaced. 'You're trying to provoke me Granger. What do you want me to say? I was a child of two parents lost to a cause they believed it that most other sensible individuals considered to be wrong. I grew up knowing nothing of this world besides the propaganda I was fed, and I wasn't allowed to forget it for one moment. Especially by you, Potter and Weasley.'

He paused after that outburst, his gaze drawn out across the busy pub as memories from a distant life flooded back. 'The best decision I ever made was putting down my wand after the trial and walking away, although I didn't know it at the time. Now, now I have no regrets.'

'What happened to you?'

And so he told her. He told her of the conversation he had with the Minister of Magic before his trial began, of how he'd asked, if he were acquitted, for help. He wanted, no, needed a fresh start far away from the world he was leaving behind. He told her how on the day he was acquitted, he handed his wand over and was taken to a house in Bristol. A squib had agreed to take him in, and to help him assimilate into Muggle society.

'I call her Aunt Maureen, and she's formidable. She had to be, to deal with the spoilt teenager who'd never had to lift a finger to look after himself. She taught me pretty much everything I needed to know to survive. I visit whenever I can.'

It took a year for him to study and earn the qualifications he needed to attend a local college. Another year to get the qualifications he needed to apply and get accepted at the University of Nottingham as a mature student.

'What did you study?' She asked.

'History and Anthropology, if you'd believe it.'

He considered all sorts of career options over his four years in Nottingham, but in the end, he'd settled on teaching.

'Now I work at a liberal girls' school in Camden. There's no school uniform, huge diversity, they keep me on my toes.'

Hermione was fascinated. 'I know,' he continued, 'You're thinking it's crazy. I said you wouldn't believe me if I told you. But I love it, I can't imagine doing anything else.'

He seemed so content. She felt the tug of jealousy pulling away at her own frustrated life.

'And you don't keep any ties with your old life?'

He shrugged, finishing his pint before answering. 'I used to see Blaise every couple of months or so, but he's in Australia now, married with two kids. I'm not hooked up to the Floo network, and you know how it is when children come along.'

She wanted to ask about his father, but resisted. Maybe some things were better left unsaid.

'So that's me. What's your plan, Granger?'

The ultimate question. 'I don't really have one yet,' she admitted honestly, leaning back in her chair. 'I have some time off at Christmas, I was going to think about it then. For now I'm lucky that I can stay with my parents, but after that I'm not sure.'

He leant back, resting an ankle over his knee. 'You know, the way you're talking, you make your situation sound so bleak. I never had you down to be a cynic. You have the choice to do anything you want. That's exciting.'

'But I don't know what I want,' she lamented. 'That's the problem.'

'You may not want the advice of a former enemy who, but if I could offer up anything, I would tell you to take some risks. If you try something and don't like it, cut your losses and move on. You have the freedom to.'

It sounded so easy when he said it like that.

He glanced down at his watch. 'I'm going to have to make a move, unfortunately. There's a pile of essays I need to mark before tomorrow that I've been putting off all weekend.'

'Oh yes, please don't let me keep you,' she replied after a hesitant beat, reaching for her scarf, hoping she had been able to mask her disappointment with a smile before he could note it. There was still so much they could talk about, so much to cover. It was news to her that she even wanted to.

He watched her carefully for a moment, still seated. 'You said your parents lived in Kingston, right?'

She nodded as she edged forward in her own seat.

'Well, in a bizarre twist of fate we call coincidence, I have a game there on Tuesday night. 5-a-side football, my team are in a league,' he clarified, as her mouth fell open in shock.

'You play football?'

He laughed. 'I know, I know.' He held his hands up. 'It's a world away from snitches and broomsticks. But I love it. Maureen's two sons introduced me to it when I moved in with her and I've been obsessed ever since.' He took a breath. 'If you don't have any plans, maybe we could meet after my game and grab another drink or some food? There are...there are things I'd like to talk to you about still.' The weight of the past hung ominously in that sentence.

Hermione wondered if Harry, Ron and Ginny would ever believe any of this. 'Ok then,' she said, nodding.

'Great! I don't know the exact time that we'll finish, maybe half 7 or 8. Do you know where the King's College Sports Ground is? You could meet me there if you don't mind hanging around for a bit? Or I can meet you near the station...'

'I'll come to the Sports Ground, it's not too far from the house,' she said, smiling as she stood, wrapping her coat around herself. She waited as he did the same.

'Thank you for the drink,' she told him sincerely when they were stood outside the door to the pub, the sky dark all around them, the streets still bustling with life under the light of countless Christmas decorations strewn overhead.

'You're welcome. And thanks for your help earlier.'

She guffawed. 'Ha, I hope "The Oracle" makes you the coffee of your dreams.'

'Yes, well, it was a very "first-world problem" to have.' He hesitated as if to say something more, and then thought the better of it. 'So I'll see you Tuesday?'

She nodded yes, said a quick 'goodbye,' and waving as she turned right to walk back down towards Victoria station. It was only when she got home that she realised they hadn't exchanged numbers and she had no idea of how to get hold of him if she wanted to cancel.

* * *

Any thoughts or feedback are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his Universe do not belong to me, I'm merely borrowing the characters.

* * *

'How was your weekend?' Hannah, a fellow history teacher asked him as he walked into the Humanities office Monday break time. Draco had just taught a great lesson on the Crusades with his Year 12 and was feeling energised.

'Pretty good thanks,' he replied, dropping his lesson notes onto his desk, grabbing his coffee cup. 'Are you heading down to the staff room?' He asked, holding his cup up.

Hannah grabbed her own mug and they made their way along the teeming corridors down to the other side of the building where the staff haven was. 'How was yours?'

'Spent far too much of it hungover,' she told him, smiling to a group of students that called out their hello's to her as they walked past. 'Went on a Tinder date on Saturday, have you heard of it?'

Hannah was twenty-five, and new to London. She'd joined their department in September and had wasted no time in throwing herself into her new city life. From what she had shared with him so far, she'd spent the last three years living up in Doncaster with a boyfriend. Her desire to socialise and meet new people had been at odds with her former partner and now she seemed to be intent on finding a new one.

She filled him in on the dating app as they made their drinks and took a pastry each from a giant silver tray that was fast emptying (their school leadership team knew what was important in helping their staff get through the day).

'And I thought it was going so well, we had a real spark you know? But after a couple of hours he said he had an early start the next day, and then outside the bar he told me "it was nice to meet you" and get this - "good luck!".'

'Ooh,' Hayley, a PE teacher who had joined their conversation. 'Ouch.'

Hannah's brows were knotted together. 'It's was brutal.'

'At least he was honest,' Draco offered, taking a bite of his Danish.

'Yeah, although I kinda wish he hadn't of been.' Hannah sighed, tucking her long blonde hair behind her ears. 'So afterwards, I went and met some friends and got absolutely hammered and spent yesterday hungover in bed watching 30 Rock.'

'At least you didn't cry on him,' Hayley consoled. 'I had something similar happen last year, except I'd already gone home with the bastard and it was the morning after. When he said "I think you're really lovely, I'm just not after anything serious right now" I burst into tears. The only perk was that I still had a lot of mascara on, I don't think his fancy pillowcases could be rescued.'

Draco grinned.

'So what did you get up?' Hannah asked him.

'I bumped into someone I knew from school actually, in Selfridges.'

'God, I love it when random shit like that happens. That must have been nice?'

It had been nice, and surreal. He'd been walking back from a lunch with some of his footie mates when he had spotted her on the opposite side of the pavement. She was unmistakeable even bundled up in her winter clothes, the woollen hat hiding much of her hair. It was her face though, a face he had sneered at for years, a face he had to watch contort and twist in pain on the floor of his family home that still stood out in the late afternoon haze. And she was less than a hundred feet from him, after all this time, and she seemed to be alone.

And he wouldn't have followed her, but she'd darted into the department store and before he could stop himself his feet were carrying him though the same door. He didn't think for one second that they would actually end up talking. And that he'd end up purchasing a coffee machine on a whim to save face.

'It was nice,' he replied to Hannah, 'Although I wouldn't say that Hermione and I got on well at school, it was quite the opposite.'

'Hermione? That's an interesting name.' There was distinct edge to Hannah's voice. 'Why didn't you get on?' She was chewing on a nail.

'Truthfully? She was always better than me, in almost every class. I guess you could say I was jealous of her. She always seemed to show me up.'

It wasn't a complete departure from the truth. Of course, he couldn't say anything about his birth or his prejudice, and that was just the start of it.

'So she's very clever then. That must have been a bit weird?'

He shook his head. 'Surprisingly it wasn't. We're going to catch up again tomorrow.'

Hayley regarded him sceptically. They'd been working together for years and often socialised in the same group at the pub down the road on a Friday after work. 'If I didn't know you any better, I'd venture that you like her.'

Draco nearly choked on his coffee, but managed to swallow it down. 'I admire her. But it's not like _that_. We were very much enemies back then.''

'Draco's a committed bachelor, and he's always so coy about the women he sees' Hayley said to Hannah conspiratorially, leaning across him. 'It's alright for men. How old are you Draco, 32? He could stay single until he's 60 and then decide to start a family with a 30 year old if he wanted. Incredibly picky.'

They all laughed. 'You make me sound like an asshole,' he countered, but was grinning. 'Don't blame me for the biological clock. How did we even end up there? Hermione's an acquaintance from school, nothing more.'

'Mmhmm,' Hayley muttered, stretching her arms up over her head. 'Tell me that on Wednesday, or better yet, at your wedding. Right, I have cross country with my Year 7, someone help me. I can hear the protests now. "Miss, I can't run outside in the mud, I'm allergic". These girls! See you both later. And Draco,' she called back over her shoulder, 'enjoy your date tomorrow!'

* * *

Hermione finished work at half 5 on Tuesday, having successfully negotiated the resettlement of a family of Dragons to northern Sweden. She'd grabbed her things and hurried down to the apparition point in the Great Entrance, acknowledging colleagues with a nod as she walked quickly by.

They were too professional to gossip about her private life anywhere near her face.

A nervous anticipation had settled in her gut on Sunday evening and had only amplified in the intervening time since then. Ginny had stopped by at lunch yesterday, wanting to see how she was, a Molly Weasley care package in tow that was still sitting on the edge of her desk. Hermione had debated whether to tell her about her run in with Malfoy the previous day, and decided against it. The news would spread back to Harry and Ron quicker than a snitch could evade a seeker, and she was keen to avoid them all getting the wrong end of the stick. No, better to keep it to herself.

She was lucky that she could apparate discretely into the shed at the bottom of her parent's garden, hidden any unsuspecting neighbours. Shaking off her cloak and hanging it up on a peg, she walked the path up to the conservatory, letting herself in.

Her family home hadn't changed much over the years. It was a modest, warm place; three bedrooms in the heart of Kingston, large garden with a bit of woodland behind them. True to the dentist stereotype, it was always immaculately clean and had been carefully decorated throughout, although its studious nature was difficult to hide in the piles of books and newspapers that clustered the many shelves and tables.

It was almost disconcerting to Hermione how quickly she had managed to settle back in. Three months had passed since she had turned up at her parents' egg blue front door one Saturday morning, a large suitcase signalling her intention to stay, the weight of a failed marriage heavy on her shoulders. She hadn't really cried, and her parents thankfully hadn't judged. They'd gathered around the dining table, hands wrapped over steaming mugs of tea, concern evident in both sets of eyes. There hadn't been too much to explain, and when she told them how she felt like she and Ron were on different pages, and that her life didn't feel as fulfilling as she hoped it might be, they'd nodded and reassured her they'd support her no matter what.

And not for the first time she wondered if there was something akin to relief in both of them that their daughter, their only child, had come back to them again. They'd always encouraged her choice to fully immerse herself in another world, even if that world somewhat bemused them, and they had never hidden their pride. But in returning home temporarily, they had her back for more than just the standard Sunday lunches and occasional evening drop in. Their happiness had been too bold to ignore, and it made her feel a deeper dredge of guilt.

Her ease at slipping back into a life that predated Hogwarts only sharpened the resolve that things with Ron hadn't been right for a while. Funny how eleven year old Hermione had been a lot more sorted than her elder 33 year-old self.

She took a plate of crumpets up to her childhood room, the house quiet, her parents out as so they so often were now that they had retired. As she sat on the end of her bed and chewed, she contemplated what to wear that evening. She didn't want to look like she was trying too hard, but she wanted to make a good impression, to show Malfoy that her life wasn't a complete disaster.

Not that it mattered.

Her childhood wardrobe was brimming with a mismatch of casual clothes and workwear, the railing straining under the weight of the hangers. It felt wrong to use magic to sort the problem out here. Was the ending of her marriage not just confined to her relationship with Ron but her relationship with magic too?

Finishing the last bite of buttery crumpet, she wiped her hands and changed, tucking a spotted short sleeve shirt into a pair of jeans belted at the waist, throwing a warm cropped knitted jumper over the top. Her hair was somewhat behaving today, the remains of summer highlights softening the dark brunette mop. Neither wavy nor straight, it fell well past her shoulders. She gathered it all together and made it appear shorter, contemplating a cut, twisting her head to the left and the right in the mirror before let it fall again and tying it back into a simple polytail, simple diamond studs peeking out from her ears.

She assessed her face. Staring at the lines that had started to appear around her eyes and on her forehead, she tried to imagine what a potential future date might think if he were to sit opposite her over glasses of gin and tonic, and hoped he wouldn't find her entirely lacking. Her skin still had a healthy glow to it, and when she smiled her eyes brightened. It wasn't a hopeless canvas to work with.

The front door clicked shut, signalling her parents return. She grabbed her hand bag off of her bed and headed downstairs, grabbing a shearling-lined coat from the stand by the door.

'Hello darling,' her mother called out from the kitchen at the end of the hall, the sound of pots and pans clattering distinctively as she started on dinner. 'How was your day?'

'Good thanks. Hello dad,' she said to her father, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He was sat at the breakfast counter, a large cardboard box in front of him. 'What's that?'

'Your father,' her mother began, as she carefully measured out water into a jug and poured it into a pan, 'has bought himself a model airplane to build. I think he plans to fly it around and annoy the neighbours. Jimmy next door apparently has one.'

'I won't use it near the house, Jane. I just want to have a go at building the thing,' he chided as he started unpacking the pieces, having successfully negotiated the removal of the sticky wrapping tape around the box. 'Are you off to meet your school friend?' He asked Hermione as he held up a piece of what looked like a motor, inspecting it seriously.

They hadn't asked too many questions when she said she bumped into someone she knew, and she was thankful she didn't have to lie.

She nodded and said 'mmhmm,; catching the eye of her mother who asked her if she wanted a plate of dinner saved.

'I think we're eating out, actually.'

'Well I'll pack you up a portion and you can take it to work for your lunch tomorrow,' her mother replied definitively. 'I'm making beef stew with dumplings.'

It was pointless to argue. Cooking for her and making her eat seemed to be a new hobby. 'Sounds great, thank you.'

She was chopping beef now with determined, brutal force. 'Take something to cover your ears, there's such a chill out.'

There was a lot to be said that she had survived for most of her life without parental interference, never mind fighting in an actual war, and yet was still not immune to be treated like a five year old.

Dutifully she put on a pair of festive ear muffs that had been procured many Christmases ago and left the house, taking the short walk towards the football pitches at the university sports ground.

HIs instructions had been so vague, she half expected to struggle to find him but needn't have worried. The shouts and noise of friendly competitive football drifted out over the stands, hot breath mixing with the cold evening air as a number of balls were kicked over a series of muddy football pitches, names being shouted out left and right. There were a number of games being played, but the game stands were empty of supporters. Not a surprise in this weather.

Hermione spotted his distinctive hair under the bright pitch lights, and he must have seen her too, for he waved quickly, and she pointed at the stand indicating where she'd wait before he heard his name called out, his attention drawn back to the game, and he was running as the ball headed his way.

She settled into a seat a few rows up, hoping he didn't mind the audience. Was she too early? She watched the remainder of their game with rapt attention, curses and kicks aplenty, knowing for sure that seeing Malfoy playing football in a red and yellow jersey, socks muddied, a look of pure enjoyment on his face, was easily the most bizarre thing she could imagine seeing in a long time.

Eventually a whistle blew, and cheers were thrown into the air. Hands clapped backs and shook politely. After a few moments he came jogging over, his face flushed, loose hair around his face.

'Hi, you made it.' He was leaning over the railings, his breath ragged with exertion.

'Never thought I'd see the day you were wearing Gryffindor colours!' She teased. 'Mind if I take a picture?' She reached for her bag jokingly.

'Green and silver was already taken,' he admitted, glancing back at the pitch before turning his attention to her. 'We've just finished, do you mind waiting a few minutes for me to get cleaned up and then we'll go? You're not too cold?'

'I could cast a warming charm but I'm alright, don't worry. I have a book with me anyway.'

He grinned. 'Of course you do, some things never change. Alright, I won't be long.'

* * *

Thank you for the feedback so far. If you'd like more, please take a moment to let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. This is just the work of a girl with a bit of time on her hands having a bit of light-hearted fun.

* * *

'Oi, oi, who is that?' James, their lanky goalkeeper inquired when Draco rejoined the group, picking up a net of balls and cones they'd used in practice before their match. James was grinning wolfishly as he jabbed him in the ribs, glancing back at Hermione on the benches.

'New bird mate?' Connor, their left-back, asked with a wide smile. 'You're brave, bringing her here.'

They walked into the changing area, Draco shaking his head, wishing he'd said he'd meet her at the station instead. He should have known her presence would provoke this sort of response.

'She's an old friend from school and lives nearby. I bumped into her the other day, we're just going to catch up. As a friend.' If you could say that they were friends.

'She looked pretty fit from what I could see,' came Dave's intervention, their midfielder and all around player, on and off the pitch. 'Is she single then?' He asked, stripping his top off, never shy to reveal the six-pack he spent a lot of time honing underneath. He was always on the hunt.

'Just out of a marriage, and not ready to date,' Draco told him sternly, pulling his boots off.

'Best time to catch them,' Dave told the room, laughing. 'So you're bringing her for celebratory drinks, right?'

Draco reached for his towel. 'Er, let me think about that. No.'

Dave pulled a face. 'Oh come on, you cannot bail on us. We just crushed the opposition 5-0. Chris is buying the first round.'

'And why is that?' came a shout from the shower, steam flowing out over the top of the stall and mingling over their heads as if they weren't flushed

'Because you're the bloody captain and you're a wanker banker, that's why,' Connor shouted back so he was heard over the sound of flowing water.

'That's settled then,' Dave told him. 'You can bring your foxy friend and she can celebrate with us and you can catch up, it's a win-win.'

Draco groaned, wondering if it were possible to extract himself from this situation, feeling it was hopeless to argue. 'Alright, I'll ask her.' There was a cheer. 'But if she says no,' and he deeply hoped she would, 'then you'll have to make do without me. And her.'

'Spoil sport,' James told him, chucking a sweaty shirt over his head as he walked into the shower.

* * *

'You really don't have to do this you know. We can still say no and go somewhere else,' Draco said to her 10 minutes later as they walked into the town centre, his teammates laughing and joking ahead of them.

Hermione smiled, wondering what had come over her. She was obviously so starved of social interaction that when he'd asked her if they could go for one drink with his team to celebrate their win, she said yes without even thinking what it would look like or mean.

'It's just one drink, it'll be fun,' she'd told him, but she could sense his unease. 'Do you mind though? Because if you do it's ok, we can just-'

'In here,' bellowed the tallest of his teammates outside a bustling pub, was it James maybe? There had been hasty introductions when his teammates had gathered around her, all specimens of your typical professional men in their late 20's and early 30's, excluding good health and a love of even better times.

'Too late to run away now Hermione,' came a friendly voice to her left, Dave she thought it belonged to, his hand on her back as he gestured her inside. "After you.'

Draco shot a warning glare over her head which Dave seemed intent to ignore.

Drinks were swiftly ordered and they crowded around a large raised table in the middle of the bar, Hermione seemingly at the head of it in prime position and separated from Draco, who seemed a little concerned about that.

'So how do you two know each other?' Asked one of Draco's teammates over a large pint, the one with the shock of black hair. 'Draco was saying you went to the same school?'

Crap, they hadn't thought to agree on a story. She wondered what they knew. Draco was talking to the person next to him, absolutely no help.

'That's right,' she began. 'We were in a lot of the same classes together.' Best to keep this conversation non-specific, she thought.

'And you haven't seen each other since then? You weren't good friends?'

'Actually,' Hermione started, catching Malfoy's eye across the table, a small smile tugging at her lips. He too, looked a little panicked as he caught onto the topic of conversation, a pint halfway to his mouth. 'Actually, if I'm honest, I think it's only fair to say that we hated one another at school.'

Eyes widened.

'Seriously? You actually hated each other?' That was the one called Connor.

She shrugged a shoulder, feigning nonchalance. 'Afraid so.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'It's true, he told them, having taken a long sip of his drink. 'Couldn't stand her. She was infuriating in class, hand always up in the air, desperate to answer the teacher's questions. She was a complete know-it-all.'

'You just hated that I was always right.'

'And boy, didn't we all know it.'

Dave interrupted, 'And what, you just randomly happened to bump into each other again the other day?' He'd seated himself next to her.

'Yep.'

'And now you're being civil to each other, just like that?'

'Yep.' She took a sip of her bottled beer. _If only you know the half of it._

Dave let out a low whistle of disbelief.

'So come on,' encouraged the captain of their team, that was Chris, 'you've got to tell us Hermione, what was Draco like at school?

'Yeah,' agreed Connor. 'Please tell us. He doesn't talk all that much about his past. Was he an absolute prat?'

Hermione glanced at the jolly, windswept faces of his teammates, his friends, seated on stools around the table, pints in hands, all of their attention rapt on her. She smiled coyly.

'Well,' she began slowly, as if she were considering her words carefully, twisting a beer mat in her hand, avoiding his gaze. 'Our school was divided into four houses, and the first thing to understand about Draco was that he was deeply, deeply unpopular in his house. And, I hate to say it, but he was terrible at sport.'

'Uh-'

'Now I know he's a bit embarrassed about it,' she continued, raising her voice over his, 'Even after all these years, but it's true. It was actually a relief to here that he is now able to play football, because he was so uncoordinated back then. Always tripping over himself in the corridor. Don't even get me started on his dancing at the Yule Ball in fourth year.'

Draco's eyes had widened, wondering where she was going with this.

'I always had you down for being a bit of a sporty playboy, Draco,' Dave taunted with a laugh.

'Oh no, he was the complete opposite. But he tried, believe me, he tried. He'd walk around with this rather pointed look on his face, sort of like -' She pinched at her cheeks and pouted, eliciting a guffaw of laughs, 'I think he thought he looked nonchalant, a bit James Dean like, but I can assure you, it was quite the opposite. And then there was the hair. My grandmother had a pair of curtains that in the morning resembled the cut he wore rather well.'

She raised her bottle to her lips, risking a glance his way. She was relieved to see that he was grinning at her.

'You want to bring up hair Granger?' He challenged. 'Because you can hardly talk considering the state yours used to be in. We had bets going - how many birds you could nest in it, how many books you could hide... Think Hagrid from Lord of the Rings guys, and you'd be halfway there.'

Hermione faked mock outrage. 'Didn't stop me kicking your ass in pretty much every subject though, did it?'

'So were you sporty Hermione?' Asked another.

'Well -'

But Draco wasn't having any of it. 'Oh no you don't,' he said, pointing an accusing finger at her. 'Hermione will just be modest but she was an exceptional athlete back then. Always picked first for a team, even though she was seriously aerodynamically challenged with the hair. You should have seen her run. It's why I couldn't stand her.'

Her face flamed as she shook her head, saving herself with another sip of beer.

'Sounds like you two were a right pair back then. I'm not buying any of it.'

They all laughed, and thankfully the interrogation ended as the group broke down into smaller pockets of conversation, a couple going up to the busy bar to order another round of drinks already. Dave turned in his seat next to her. 'So what do you do now Hermione,' he asked, showing his interest.

She paused for a moment, settling on, 'I work in the law, legal aid mainly, in the city.' It was sort of true. 'Yourself?' She asked.

A hand ruffled his hair. 'I'm a management consultant. Which basically means I get paid a lot of money to essentially tell people how to do their jobs.'

'Ah yes, I've heard that one before.'

He pulled a despairing face. 'But I'm not an awful guy, I promise. I never overcharge.'

'Well that's a relief to know. How long have you been playing with this team?' She asked, pleased with herself for making conversation with a man she'd just met. This was good practice.

He was holding his empty glass in both hands, signalling for someone to pass him another from the middle of the table. 'Oh I guess about 6 years now maybe. They're a good bunch of lads, we have fun.'

He told her about some of their more exciting matches, and a couple of dodgy stories from their light-hearted holidays abroad that doubled as an excuse to go out and get rat-arsed to play hungover football afterwards. She listened intently. It wasn't difficult either, to answer the questions he asked her, the little that she could say to him. There was only a brief moment when she felt a deep betrayal of Ron, but she stuffed the feeling aside, promising to come back to it later. She was only talking.

After a while she glanced up and her eyes locked on Draco who was already looking over. 'Shall we go?' He mouthed to her, miming eating. She nodded.

'You're not off already?' Dave asked catching on, his voice laced with disappointment as she reached for her earmuffs and coat. Malfoy was clapping a few of the guys on their backs, saying his own goodbyes.

'Sorry,' she apologised, then wondered if that had been the right thing to say. 'We're going to grab a bite to eat, leave you all to your celebrating.'

Dave stood also. 'Well, Hermione, it was enchanting to meet you.' He said, giving her another winning smile and holding out a hand to shake.

'You too,' she told him, placing her hand in his, startling as she felt the small rectangle of card between them.

'My details, if you're ever in need of a consultant. Mates rates of course,' he joked, but there was an intensity there in his eyes. She hadn't been looked at like that in a long time. 'Or you know, if you fancy a drink sometime.'

She smiled quickly to hide her surprise at his directness, his confidence. 'Oh, ok, thanks,' she told him, stuffing the card into her pocket as Draco came up to her, asking if she were ready.

She waved goodbye to a chorus of 'nice to meet you!'s' and 'feel free to come again!'. Malfoy quickly ushered her away before they had a chance to say anymore.

The cool air outside was a bit of a shock to the system compared with the warmth of the buzzing atmosphere in the pub.

'Sorry about that,' Draco told her, as they started walking along the cobbled high street towards the town centre. 'I should have warned you they'd be like that. He pulled up the collar of his coat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, his kit bag hanging loosely at his side.

'I think I should be the one to apologise, was what I said ok?' She asked worriedly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, wrapping her arms around herself. 'I didn't want to offend you.'

He smiled. 'You didn't, and you handled them brilliantly. I think I can safely say that you now have ten new fans. Wouldn't even be surprised if they kicked me off the team. How's your shot-on-goal ratio?'

She laughed loudly. 'Awful, obviously. I don't think anyone would buy that I have a sporting bone in my body. Nothing has changed there.'

He stopped outside of a Vietnamese restaurant that looked popular. 'We probably should have agreed on a cover story beforehand, I was worried you were going to say we went to school in Switzerland or something more exotic and blow our cover. You'd have had to cast some obliterations. How about we eat here?'

They could only sit outside, packed as it was, but there were blankets and heat lamps so it was tolerable. They both opted for steaming bowls of Pho, with a side of spring rolls.

'You know, one of the best things about being single now is that I can eat all the different types of food that I like. Ron was a good cook but he's not really an adventurous eater. It always frustrated me,' she said, using her chopsticks to dip a crispy spring roll in the chilli accompaniment with practiced ease. She chewed it slowly. 'I'm not sure why I just said that, sorry. He's a good guy.'

'Don't apologise, it's ok to talk about it. I won't bite. It might be quite refreshing to talk to someone who sort of knows you and yet is completely removed from the situation.' He stirred his soupy noodles. 'Are Harry and the little Weasley still together?'

'Very much so. They have three children now. Harry's a senior Auror and Ginny writes for the sports section of the Daily Prophet. They're very happy.'

'And you and Weasley, no children?' He probed. It was more a statement of fact than a question.

She looked down at her hands, her nail polish chipped. 'No, that was part of our problem,' she admitted honestly, unconcerned with the looseness of her own tongue. 'He was keen to start trying for a family years ago, and I was always really honest with him about not being ready yet. I wanted to focus on work and travel. There's only so many years you can put it off without it becoming an issue though.'

He waited patiently for her to continue.

'And then I started getting frustrated with him. After Harry and Ginny had their third earlier this year, he started bringing it up more often, and I knew I still didn't want to go down that path with him, at first it was 'not yet' again and then I realised that maybe was just an excuse for never.' She paused. 'The worst part was that he seemed to be willing to accept my hesitation, even though I knew he wanted a complete family unit, and I couldn't do it anymore. Something was wrong for me and I couldn't fix it.' She took a deep breath as she thought back to the night when it had all come to a head, the hurt look in his eyes. 'Maybe if he had been more resolute, had threatened to leave unless I agreed to start trying, maybe I would have stayed. Maybe something would have clicked into place. But he didn't, and I knew our time was up.'

She watched him watch her as she took a sip of her beer. His face was impassive, unreadable. 'What about you?' she said, eager to change the subject. 'Have you got a partner?'

He was twisting his chopsticks in his hand. 'Not really. Nothing serious anyway. I'm very happy with where I am in my life right now, I don't feel like anything is missing. I have my own place, I earn a decent salary, I have good friends. Admittedly my flat is a shoebox, and in many ways, I live payday to payday, but I find I appreciate everything so much more than I ever did before. It's...nice.'

Hermione could understand that, she supposed. It didn't stop a pang of jealously from rippling across Hermione's skin however. After all he had been through, didn't he deserve to be this happy now?

She tried to imagine what the two of them looked like, sitting there under the awning of the restaurant, having a casual dinner. Did they look like two old friends? 'This is weird isn't it? I mean, after all that's happened in our lives, it's a bit strange, sitting here eating noodles together and drinking beer.'

He looked back at her, his blond hair gleaming under the fairy lights hanging from the awning. 'Stranger things have happened, and time is one hell of a healer, or so I've found,' he replied, resting his chopsticks against his bowl for a moment. 'Did you tell them you'd bumped into me?'

'Who, Harry and Ron? No, I haven't seen them since the weekend. Ginny dropped by yesterday and I was going to say something then, but thought better of it. Out of respect to you.'

He nodded, his attention drifting to the loud group of customers that were jostling to get into the restaurant behind her.

'I just thought you wouldn't necessarily want me to share anything, I wasn't implying-'

'I think about it a lot you know,' he interjected, cutting her off. 'The past. What I was. What I've done.' And then, 'What happened to you, at my home.'

Hermione stopped eating, watching him intently. He drew his gaze back to hers.

'There aren't enough words that can fully convey what I want to say to you, about it all.' He shook his head. 'To fully apologise, for doing nothing when I should have done something. But that's fear for you, and cowardice.'

'You were just a child, we all were.' She said eventually, her own gaze stretching out to the street as the memories came flooding back. 'We felt guilty afterwards, Harry especially. We should have been blind to prejudice and we weren't, and you were put into a terrible position. It's why Harry testified so emphatically at your trial, for you and your mother. Well, one of the reasons. Without your mother, things might have turned out very differently.'

He knew all of this of course. 'He tried to reach out, in Sixth year. Sort of. I couldn't see past what I had been taught.'

'I was more worried about what you might think about me, after what I testified at your father's trial,' she confessed, her voice small now. 'I don't know if you know, he's still...'

'In Azkaban?' Draco finished for her. 'Yes. The Minister promised to write, if anything were to change there.' A long silence. 'I haven't seen him since my mother passed. If it's any consolation, he despises me for selling off the family businesses and leaving, to live here like I do. Pride still runs strong through his veins, even if just in the family name, whatever is left of it.' He caught her gaze and held it. 'I don't blame you, for what you said that day. You have nothing to apologise for. It was all true, and he deserves his punishment.'

Part of Draco's own acquittal had involved him promising the profits of all business sales to a number of charities supporting efforts to rebuild the Wizarding community after the war. He would receive nothing himself, which had been fine by him.

'You still have the Manor?'

He nodded. 'They let me keep hold of it. I haven't been back though; it's lying in state. I need to make a decision about it at some point, but there's no rush.'

Hermione shivered. 'Sorry,' he offered when he realised.

'Honestly, it's ok.' She returned to slurping noisily on her noodles, the mood lightening. 'There is one thing I'd like to know,' she said, pushing her bowl aside when she'd finished, wiping at her lips with a napkin.

He made a 'go-on' gesture with his chopsticks.

'Do you miss it - magic? I read somewhere once that if a wizard or witch didn't practice it for an extended period of time, they eventually went mad.' She gestured at him. 'And obviously, you don't look much mad to me.'

'Maybe I'm completely bonkers, Granger, and am just very good at hiding it,' he joked, signalling a waitress who had just finished at another table over. 'Do you want another drink?' He asked her, noticing her empty bottle.

She scanned through the drinks menu quickly. 'Can I get an egg coffee please? I've always wanted to try one.'

'Make that two,' he told the waitress, who cleared their plates away. 'Good choice.'

'Have you been to Vietnam?' She asked, eager to fill in the gaps in his history.

'A few years ago, on a school trip. It was brilliant, I loved every second. I went back a year later and cycled all along the coast, got caught in a terrifying monsoon.'

He regaled her with his tales of the food he tried and people he met as they sipped on their sweet, frothy coffees, the question about magic brushed aside and forgotten. 'You should probably learn how to make this,' she told him, thinking it was delicious as she drained the last drop and scooped out the froth with a spoon.

When it came to settling the bill, Hermione insisted on paying for the whole lot. 'Please let me,' she protested, counting out the notes. She remembered to keep a stash of Muggle money in her purse these days.

He relented, but only on the condition that she handed over her mobile phone. 'Woah,' he exclaimed, picking up the brick she'd pulled out of her bag. 'This still works?' He turned it over in his hands. 'You have an antique here Granger.'

'Don't be mean, I never really needed one before!' she said in her defence. 'I don't have much need for a mobile.'

'Obviously. Right, let's see if I work this thing. I'm going to give you my number, and I'm going to ring my phone so that I have yours. That way, if you want to get hold of me for whatever reason, you can.' He tapped away at the keypad, then made a big deal of getting his much smaller, shinier phone out of his pocket to save hers.

'If only everyone else from school could see you now,' she said, relishing the image and ensuring she stored it for future reference. 'Draco Malfoy, revelling in his Muggle gadgetry.'

He grinned, passing her phone back. 'Think a number of them would have a heart attack.'

'I had a lot of fun this evening,' she told him sincerely, as she bid him good night near the station. 'Thanks for letting me tag along, and again, sorry if I embarrassed you.'

'If you did, it was long overdue, and you didn't. It was good to talk. Are you ok getting home?'

She smiled at the gallantry. 'Yes, thank you - I think I can manage suburban streets after all I've seen.'

Later, when she'd showered and was tucked up in bed, she realised she was still smiling. She couldn't remember the last time she fell asleep feeling happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still not mine!

* * *

Harry and Ginny lived in a charming cottage on the outskirts of a small village in Surrey. It had all of the trappings that an idyllic home needed to have - thatched roof, roaring fires, exposed beams; and crucially it stood alone at the end of a narrow path, giving the young family the privacy they craved.

Hermione had been preparing for an in important meeting about the conservation of a rare magical bird with a visiting delegation from Austria that morning when Harry's invitation had landed on her desk.

_Will you please come for dinner at ours tonight? Just me, Ginny and the kids. Come anytime after work, no need to bring anything. _

_Harry x_

Hermione thought it rather cavalier that he assumed she'd have no other plans on a Friday night, but then again, he was right; she didn't, so she scribbled a note back saying that she would attend and would bring wine. She had a feeling she might need it.

Ginny answered the door bouncing a crying Lily on her hip. 'Hey, you made it!' She cried out herself happily, pulling Hermione in for a hug. 'I was worried you were going to bail on us.'

'Of course not,' Hermione replied as she followed her inside, unwrapping her scarf and hanging it by the door. She turned to the youngest member of the family. 'Oh Lily, what's with the tears?'

'Here, let me take that from you and you can try to calm your goddaughter down, she's been miserable all afternoon and I'm at my wits end.' Ginny plucked the wine bottle from Hermione with one hand, passing Lily over with another with practiced ease.

Lily squirmed as she settled into Hermione's arms before fixing her bright green eyes on her face, registering the newcomer. 'Hello baby girl,' she cooed, trying to coax a smile from the nine month old.

'Auntie Hermy!'

There was the sound of feet scuffling across the floor, and she felt rather than saw Lily's brothers as they crashed into her legs, wrapping their arms around her in tight grips. 'We missed you!'

Balancing Lily carefully, who was now tangling her tiny fists in Hermione's hair, she managed to crouch down, giving them each a kiss hello. 'And how are my two favourite boys?'

'I got a new train, see?' James told her excitedly, holding up his latest toy for her to inspect. He was the spitting image of Harry, his hair as unruly as ever.

'Ooh that looks nice.'

Albus, who took more after his mother, was already running back into the living room. He returned a moment later, dragging a giant dragon teddy bear along the floor. 'And I got this, see how soft he is?' He held it out for Hermione to stroke.

Lily gurgled in her arms, trying to put her hair in her mouth. 'Well aren't you too very lucky, who bought you those?' She said, trying to wrestle Lily's tiny fist away from her hair gently.

James, on his hands and knees, pushed his train along the wooden floor. 'Uncle Ron did, the other day.'

Hermione smiled. 'That was very kind of him, wasn't it?' She said standing, turning to Harry who was just walking through from the kitchen, two glasses of wine his hands. He smiled warmly.

'Thanks for coming,' he told her sincerely, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. 'I've made lasagna. Hope you're hungry?'

She laughed. 'Always!'

He handed her a glass, smoothing Lily's head absently. 'Boys, it's time to get ready for bed now.'

There were protests and pleas, but Harry was insistent. Ginny came to retrieve Lily from Hermione, 'I'll just bathe her quickly, then hopefully they'll all settle down and we can eat like adults.' She said it all hopefully, but grimaced at the reality as she chased the boys upstairs as they continued to chatter away. 'Come on, first one to the top wins!'

'We thought about getting a babysitter and going out -' Harry began when they'd disappeared, veering into an apology to excuse the inevitable manic nature of young family life.

Hermione rested a reassuring hand on his arm. 'You don't have to apologise Harry, I love coming here, you know that.' There was always something warm and welcoming in their home, it was impossible not to feel comfortable when visiting.

'So, how have you been? Things ok, at your parents still?' he asked when they'd sat down on the upholstered sofa, toys cleared away.

'I'm fine,' she told him honestly, taking a sip of her wine. And she was. 'It's been really lovely spending so much time with my parents, I feel like I'm making up for lost time. It's been good for them too, I think.'

Harry nodded. He was looked at her intensely, as if trying to find a hint that she was lying to him. She knew that look well.

'I am sorry for all of this Harry, truly I am. If there were some other way...' She trailed off, not knowing what to say. 'I know you're mad at me.'

There was a long pause before he sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 'Of course I'm not mad at you Hermione,' he said quietly, but with conviction. He shook his head. 'I'm worried about you, and I'm worried about Ron. You're both my best friends, and I don't want to take sides. I just hope you can find a way to...get along. I can't see a future where we can't all be together. Maybe that's me being selfish...' He trailed off, his eye focusing of the flames licking the logs in the fireplace.

Hermione knew this had been worrying him. It had been worrying her too. She hoped eventually that she and Ron could be friends, that their failed marriage wouldn't irrevocably change the most important relationships in her life.

The fireplace crackled, embers glowing boldly. 'Is Ron ok?' she wondered aloud, staring at the flames. 'We went for a drink last week, he seems to be doing alright.'

'He's stayed over a fair few times,' Harry admitted, 'but if it helps, as upset as he is I think he realises this is the right decision for you both.'

'He does?'

'We all do. I think it was easy to pretend that things were ok, when we all knew that they weren't.'

That was news to Hermione. 'Did you and Ginny talk about us?' She'd wondered what they'd truly thought for a while.

Upstairs there was a loud cry and shout, the sound of something thudding on the floor. The floorboards creaked under the sound of light footfall, and there was a cry of 'James, get back here this instant!'

'Do you really want to know?' Harry asked, putting his glass down on the coffee table as he jumped to his feet. He headed towards the stairs to rescue his wife.

She shook her head. She could already guess. I'll finish dinner, shall I?' She shouted after him.

He was halfway up the staircase when he turned back to look down at her. 'Don't you dare. I still remember what happened to the chicken pie the last time you intervened. Stay away from the kitchen!'

He raced up the steps before she could throw a cushion at his head.

Half an hour later they'd managed to gather around the crowded kitchen table heaving under a feast of olives, garlic bread, homemade lasagna and salad. Hermione was on her second glass of wine, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her veins.

'I am so hungry,' Ginny exclaimed as she dished out healthy portions for each of them, passing plates round. 'I love having children, but don't get me wrong, when they're tucked up in bed and sleeping, it's pure bliss.' She shoved a giant fork full of pasta into her mouth. 'So, what have you been up to this week?'

'Not much,' Hermione replied, cutting into her salad, perhaps too quickly. 'Just work really.'

Ginny paused her eating and regarded her skeptically. She looked slightly frazzled with her wild ginger hair tied back and make up free face, but her eyes were sparkling and a smile tugged at her lips. 'I've known you for a very long time Hermione Jean Granger, so I can tell when you've not giving me the whole truth.'

Did she tell them about Malfoy? She wanted too, but wondered if that would be betraying him. Her hesitation had already told them it was something, she reasoned.

'Well...actually, something did happen this week.'

'I knew it!' Ginny exclaimed, slapping Harry on the arm as he cut into his pasta. His knife clinked against the plate.

'Ow,' he protested, but he was smiling. 'Ginny is starved for gossip,' he told Hermione. 'She'll take anything she can get these days.'

'You try being at home with three children all day on your own and see how you like it,' she teased him before returning her attention to Hermione. 'So come on, out with it.'

Hermione put her knife and fork down, reaching for her glass. 'I'm not sure if you'll quite believe it, but promise you'll keep this to yourselves? This isn't gossip. I don't think he would want everyone to know.'

'He? Who's he?' Ginny prodded, her plate of food forgotten in front of her.

Hermione took a deep breath. 'I was shopping in Selfridges last Sunday and I bumped into Draco Malfoy.'

Ginny's jaw dropped. Harry stopped chewing. Hermione looked between them, the atmosphere suddenly very serious, losing all joviality. She took a sip of her wine.

Harry spoke first. 'You saw Malfoy in Selfridges?'

She nodded solemnly.

'Draco Malfoy?' That was Ginny.

'Yes.'

'In Selfridges?'

'As I said.'

There was stunned disbelief. 'We all knew he left the Wizarding world after his trial. I assumed he would have moved away somewhere new, but turns out he's been living in England this whole time.'

'Wait, you talked to him? As in, you had a conversation?'

'It was hard not to Gin, we literally bumped into each other.' She wanted to keep it just to herself that he had approached her. She felt like maybe he wouldn't want everyone to know that he had encouraged their interaction. 'We went for a drink.'

'You went for a drink? With Malfoy.' There was curiosity, not malice in her tone. Ginny was nursing her own glass of wine now. 'How? Did he ask you or did you ask him?'

It was beginning to feel like the equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition. 'He asked me. We went to a nearby pub and he told me what he'd been up to. He's a teacher now, History of all things.'

'Hang on a minute. Just like that. You went for a drink with Malfoy.' Ginny was staring at her now. 'Wasn't that...strange?'

Hermione shrugged a shoulder, putting her wine glass down and resting her arms against the table. 'I didn't really have time to think about it. I suppose it was a little odd, but I didn't exactly feel the need to start slinging insults around and dredging up the past, and neither did he. He was unfailingly polite, and apologetic for what it's worth.'

Ginny turned to Harry. He had stopped eating himself, his attention solely on Hermione, his face unreadable.

'Is it really that big of a deal?'

'No,' Harry said eventually, shaking his head and offering a small smile. 'I suppose not.' He tore off a piece of garlic bread. 'Is he well? I can't say I can imagine what he must be like living as a Muggle.'

Hermione smiled despite herself. 'I don't think the irony is lost on him either. But he seems to be very happy, or so he says. He enjoys his job and his friends seem likeable.'

Ginny had resumed eating. 'He must struggle not practicing magic though. Mum always said...wait. How do you know that his friends are likeable? Did you meet them?'

'Er, yes.'

'They were with him when you saw him?'

Hermione cringed. 'Not exactly. We went for dinner after he'd played a football game near mum and dad's house on Tuesday.'

'You went for dinner?'

'You say it like it's a big deal. We just went for some food; he wanted to talk about the past. I think he needed to say some things, to address the past.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance.

'So you went on a date with Malfoy.'

'Ginny!' Hermione cried in indignation, rolling her eyes. 'Don't be so absurd! It was definitely not a date.'

'It sounds like it was a date to me. Harry?' Ginny turned to her husband.

'Don't start,' Hermione warned him, pointing her fork at him. 'It was just dinner. It wasn't like that at all. This is Malfoy we're talking about here, and me. I don't plan on seeing him again; he was just being courteous, and like I said, he had some things he wanted to say.'

'Well this is completely unexpected.'

'I'll say,' Harry chimed in. Just then there was a strangled cry from the extendable ear that led upstairs to the nursery.

'This conversation is not over,' Ginny told her as she stood up. 'I want all the details.'

Hermione sighed, wondering why she bothered mentioning anything at all.


End file.
